


blooming through red brick cracks

by HanafudaHeroine



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, Manga Spoilers, ayahina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanafudaHeroine/pseuds/HanafudaHeroine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Each day of the two years he spent in close quarters with her seemed unhurried, but it's as though each blink of his eyes transforms Hinami from a hapless crybaby who could not meet his eyes, to a fairly reliable teammate who saw his sister in him, to a girl (a <i>girl</i> girl) who now carries that unfathomable expression on her face that changes meaning every time he thinks he’s comprehended it."</p><p>Hinami flourishes in Aogiri, rooting herself to the unlikeliest of places - Ayato's thoughts. | companion piece to <i>blooming through red brick cracks</i>.</p><p>//an AyaHina one-shot collection. Tags will be updated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. blooming through red brick cracks

“I love you.”

The words taste salty whispered against damp skin, moonshine and streetlights in lazy paintstrips across the expanse of it.

Hinami brushes her lips to his chest, lightly as a breeze. “I love you,” she says again, catching the moment by the tail-end, before it could slip by completely. “I love you. I really, really love you, Ayato-kun.”

His silence is expected. It is the first thing she learned about the boy next to her, among the other pennies and trinkets she’s collected over nearly three years. Ayato-kun is guarded, wary – he protects his secrets tighter than he protects the Tree’s. There isn’t a chink in his armor for a girl with two kagunes and too many broken bonds to slip through.

(And even if there is, Hinami isn’t certain if she could take advantage of it.)

So she contents herself with honesty and heavy-handed audacity. It’s what Ayato-kun prefers, anyway – subtlety isn’t something he can bat away with a well-placed remark about her gentleness and her weakness and her rinkaku that  _isn’t supposed to be kept away from enemies, midget, you’re supposed to fucking drive the pointy end into them!_

He despises her, or some part of her that resembles all that have burdened him in his 18 years. His father ( _failing to protect their so-called family_ ), his sister ( _fraternizing with the enemy_ ), Oniichan ( _uselessly spouting out stupid words when they could do so, so much more_ ) – he’s sneeringly compared her to them almost from the moment Eto-san had foisted her care onto him.

She wears those parts of her prouder than she wears her kakugan. She suspects that makes him despise her even more.

But she loves him.

Ayato-kun, her teacher who has told her countless times to leave the Tree if she wasn’t going to use her kagune to fight. Her partner who has threatened more than once to leave her for the Doves if she doesn’t get up by herself. Her lover who does not  _love her_ , only the way she mouths a silent scream when he curls his fingers in  _just so_.

He is her gaoler, her caretaker, her guarantor, her rock. She figures it must be Stockholm Syndrome (because who is she but another weapon for the Tree), but it doesn’t matter anymore when her daily life for the past few years has been so intricately woven around his.

(Not around the Tree. And almost not around finding Oniichan either.  _It’s the one thing she might almost truly hate about him_.)

Angry, cold, defiantbrashviolentlost _lostlostlost_ boy that he is – she loves him.

And she wants, at her core, only to be honest. Consequences be damned.

She releases a breath she’s forgotten she’s been holding in, and presses one last kiss on Ayato-kun’s collarbone, light and shadow from passing cars dancing on its ridges in a smooth ripple. “Good night,” she whispers, before she ( _lets him dismiss her words first_ ) rolls to face away.

A soft pressure on the back of her head stills her movement. She can feel his warmth through her hair, soft breaths sifting through her scalp like a mother’s fingers. She fumbles momentarily with the lump in her throat, relearning how to swallow.

“Hinami…”

Her name comes soft and stilted, the effort to keep it from his lips crumbling down like a cliff to a tsunami, piece by heavy piece. And when he wraps a shaking arm around her waist, her breath shudders because she can hear his vessels thrumming a war song and she can smell his hesitation drowning in saltwater that batters his armor to smithereens until there’s only him and her and her name murmured on the curve of her nape-

-and when it’s sunshine that comes through the window slats, the flood recedes and she’s left awash with the cooled surface of the dip of the mattress next to her, and the sinking feeling that everything is as it has always been.

She rubs her eyes, stretches her limbs, and sighs herself into the day. A warm coffee scent permeates through the slightly open bedroom door, wafting from the little machine in the kitchen corner, and her discarded clothes from the previous night have been moved from the floor to the clothes hamper. As she pads barefoot across the tiny apartment, she notes there is freshly wrapped meat in the fridge and a hastily scribbled note on its door, telling her of his whereabouts for the day in no more than three coded lines.

 _…As it has always been,_ Hinami realizes, heat blooming where her diaphragm should be, so strongly that tears drip down her cheeks before she notices.

She runs her fingers across bruised, quivering lips, suddenly hearing the years-long honesty that the noise of daily survival had dampened, blasting music through her furiously pounding ears.


	2. beast of summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verse: Childhood best friends AU in the TG:re setting  
> For the AU prompts, as requested by **raceshadowsinthemoonlight**.
> 
> (I write so slow dammit I'm sorry)

The summer sun beat down on the streets of Tokyo, light scattering as the rays hit the trees that lined the streets. The heat was humid and hazy, cicadas in fully symphony underneath the verdant canopies. It was a lazy afternoon best spent indoors.

 

“Hinami,” her mother said as they sat together at the little anteroom of her father’s clinic. There was a barely perceptible crease on her brow; however, Hinami didn’t notice a thing, only looking up from her doodling to acknowledge the call.

 

Ryouko smiled, hiding her discomfort with the topic. “Hinami… I… Well… Have you ever thought of… going to school with the other kids?”

 

The nine year old girl tilted her head, considering the question. Going to school was something that other ghoul kids got to do when they mastered the skill of vomiting human food without anyone noticing. She hadn’t done so yet, so it was her mother and father who taught her at home. The thought of school, with proper teachers and classmates and everything wasn’t anything she had the motivation to consider.

 

“You’re so very smart, Hinami,” her mother continued. “You’re so smart that I’m worried you won’t have anything to apply all that to. One day, I and even Otousan might run out of things to teach you.”

 

Hinami’s brow furrowed. “Do you… want me to, Okaasan?” she asked.

 

Her mother blinked. “Well…” She shifted, looking troubled. “I think your world would be bigger if you did.”

 

“A bigger world…” Hinami murmured, but her thoughts were interrupted by the clinic door suddenly banging open, the clattering of pens signaling that her father had been startled.

 

“Hi Sensei! Where’s Hina?”

 

Brown eyes lit up, and the crayons were abandoned on the little table as Hinami ran up to the clinic. “Ayato-kun!” she chirped. She was met with a large, gap-toothed grin on a sweaty, red face, dark hair sticking out this way and that.

 

“Hey, Hina! Let’s go to the park – the guy who brings his puppy to play is there and-”

 

“Before that, Ayato-kun,” the doctor said to the little boy, “let’s clean up your face, okay?”

 

Ayato rubbed the grime on his cheek in confusion, succeeding only in spreading it further. Hinami laughed as Ryouko wet a wash cloth and rubbed her friend’s face raw with much tutting. He fumbled for something in his pockets while his chin was held aloft. “Mmmnngot you sm’n, Hina-”

 

“Ayato-kun, hold still-”

 

“ _There!_ ” He held out a toy capsule out to her direction as he squirmed in Ryouko’s grasp.

 

Hinami reached for it, her eyes wide. She squealed in excitement as she beheld the pink-clad figurine inside the capsule. “It’s Magical Girl Lilica Scarlet! It’s the last one I’m missing and it’s really rare! How’d you get it?”

 

Ryouko let out a relieved sigh as she let Ayato wriggle free, face smudgeless. “I saw at the top of the pile last week,” he explained with a mischievous smile. “I shook the machine a little every time I saw it then I got it today.”

 

Asaki and Ryouko glanced at each other. “But he couldn’t have known that it would be at the bottom of the pile today,” Ryouko whispered to her husband. Asaki merely shrugged and shook his head.

 

Hinami squealed again and hugged Ayato. “Thank you, _thank you_ Ayato-kun!” she exclaimed. “You’re the best!”

 

“Hehe, I know.”

 

And he was. With a best friend like him, and parents like hers, Hinami figured she didn’t really need to go to school.

 

Her world was big enough for her.

 

* * *

 

 

The riverbank sparkled under the moonlight, and fireflies lent their glow to the night. Hinami, jar in hand, quietly stalked one that had strayed a bit too far from the others, and pounced right as it rested on a bush.

 

“Got one, Ayato-kun!” She held the jar – now lit with firefly glow – towards the blue-eyed boy, but he took an uncertain step backward.

 

“That’s gross, Hina,” he said bluntly. “Don’t wave that here!”

 

“It is _not_ gross,” Hinami protested. “It’s cute and pretty!”

 

Ayato considered the insect before sticking his tongue out in disgust. “Not really. It was dumb enough to fall for your trap, too.”

 

It was Hinami’s turn to stick out her tongue. “Hmph. You’re no fun, Ayato-kun. I’m going to the river to get more; you can stay and wait if you’re going to be such a killjoy.”

 

“Hina, don’t,” Ayato warned. “You’re wearing slippers and a dress – you’re gonna slip on the stones and fall into the river.”

 

“I won’t,” she promised, heading to the direction where there was the most glow. Ayato reluctantly followed, grumbling all the while.

 

She walked along the rocky riverside until she spotted two unsuspecting fireflies perched on a large stone. She gave Ayato a triumphant look, opened the jar the tiniest bit, and got ready to swoop in. However, right as she sprung, the stone under her foot gave way and she slipped face first.

 

Ayato grabbed her around the waist before her nose met the stony ground, but he lost his own balance and fell on his behind, bringing Hinami with him. In the scuffle, she dropped the jar and it rolled away, freeing the first firefly she had caught.

 

“I… told… you… so…” Ayato groaned from underneath her back, breathing hard from the exertion and her weight on his chest.

 

“Thanks for catching me,” Hinami mumbled as she got off him, eyes averted in embarrassment. Ayato snorted and ruffled her hair.

 

“Dummy,” was all he said.

 

She swatted his hand away, giggling. “I am not! But, well, I lost my firefly, though.” She stopped her laughter abruptly, eyes wide as she stared at Ayato’s hair. “Don’t move,” she muttered as she inched toward her jar.

 

He froze, blood draining from his face, an odd contrast with the light from the firefly in his hair. “Get. It. Off _,_ ” he demanded, voice constricting in terror. “ _Hurry_!”

 

Hinami, moving more sure-footed this time, lunged towards Ayato and trapped the firefly in the jar. “Don’t squish it in my hair!” he screeched.

 

“I didn’t!” Hinami exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Here it is, see?”

 

Ayato glared at the insect, now refilling Hinami’s jar with a yellow-green glow. “Ugh. Still gross.”

 

“But I saved you!” the girl proclaimed triumphantly. “You wuss!”

 

“Says the klutz I had to save from faceplanting,” he countered.

 

“Well, we’re even then,” Hinami said, as he pulled her up to stand.

 

“Guess I’ll have to save you some more,” Ayato said with a grin. “So you can owe me more.”

 

“Not a chance!”

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks later, it was Ayato that needed saving.

 

* * *

 

 

Hinami had never been so angry at her mother and father.

 

“Why can’t Ayato-kun and Touka-nee stay with us?!” she demanded. “Why did you send them away?! Ojiisan’s _gone_ and they only know us and their neighbor- she- she-”

 

She burst into tears again at the memory of the Kirishima siblings trembling in fear as they told their story in ragged, raw voices – of how the humans they thought they could trust and shouldn’t hurt even to nourish themselves had sold them out to the Doves without mercy.

 

The Doves were the monsters. They were merciless to their prey and dismantled them to use against their own kind.  Her human neighbors – the bookkeeper who gave her mother the best books on DIY dresses, the produce seller from whom they bought vegetables they pretended to cook, the jogger who ran past their clinic every 5 in the afternoon – they were never what kept Hinami awake at night. Until that day.

 

“I’m sorry, Hinami,” Asaki said, eyes pleading as he held her gently by the shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I know that Arata-kun would have wanted us to take them in if anything happened to him, but-”

 

“But you’re too afraid of the Doves to do anything!” she yelled, and flinched as soon as she did. She had never raised her voice at her father before.

 

“Hinami!” her mother warned, stepping closer, but her father shook his head.

 

“No, you’re right, Hinami,” he said with a sigh. “I _am_ afraid. I happen to love my life here, and more than that, I love you and your mother. The CCG were bearing down on them, and if they caught them here – if they even catch wind of their relationship with us, we’ll all die in the most painful of ways. Do you understand, Hinami?”

 

The girl trembled, because she did, all too well. Her glare dissolved into a sob, and Ryouko enveloped her and Asaki into her arms.

 

“They’ll be all right, Hinami,” she murmured. “We sent them to the 20th Ward, to a ghoul we trust. He’s strong and he has a lot of people under him who can protect those two. I feel bad too, but we can barely protect ourselves. We have to help ourselves before we can help others.”

 

And they were right. The thought didn’t comfort her – it did nothing to dull the fact that her trust in humans and her best friend were both lost to the circumstances.

 

* * *

 

 

Visits to the 20th Ward were few and far between, and Hinami was often left in the clinic with her father while her mother ventured to check on Touka and Ayato, as well as to get updates on the goings-on in the ghoul community. The brown-haired girl resented being left, but if her mother managed to bring her letters to the Kirishima siblings, she supposed she could be obedient for a while longer.

 

But in the years following their move, Hinami received nothing back from Ayato.

 

Touka was diligent in replying, of course, and Hinami looked forward to those – she hungrily scoured each one for news about him. They were fine and recovering, one letter said. They had managed to assimilate themselves with the Anteiku staff, said the next one. Touka was starting to get really good at making coffee, said the next.

 

“Nothing from Ayato-kun?” Hinami would ask each time, and each time Ryouko would shake her head. She stopped asking after the fifth time.

 

Touka was considering going to school in the area, but Ayato didn’t approve, said the eighth letter.

 

Ayato had run away and might be the one causing chaos in the 14th Ward, said the eleventh.

 

Ayato might have joined the ghoul organization Aogiri Tree, said the fifteenth.

 

Hinami didn’t wonder at the state of things, and started to avoid all news of Ayato after that. That didn’t stop her heart from breaking, though.

 

* * *

 

 

Then Asaki and Ryouko were killed, and it was her turn for her world to be taken apart inside out.

 

* * *

 

 

Hinami woke up from her exhaustion-induced sleep more tired than she ought to be. She could feel how puffy and red her eyes were, and her stomach protested its emptiness. _One more day of not eating,_ she thought, her mind a haze, _and I’ll probably start to feel the really painful hunger pangs._

 

She sat up and was numbly surprised to see Touka staring at her from the doorway of her room – Ayato’s old room, which still smelled faintly of him – eyes shadowed with worry and something else she couldn’t describe. “Oneechan…” She sat up slowly as her vision swam. “I’m sorry… did I wake you again?”

 

Touka broke her stare. “No… I mean… it’s just…” Her voice trailed off, gaze tracing the floor.

 

“Was I…” she clutched her blanket, feeling faintly embarrassed, “…calling for Okaasan in my sleep again?”

 

“No…” Touka’s lips thinned as their gazes met once more. Hinami was suddenly struck by the sadness in Touka’s deep blue eyes, and pain nothing to do with hunger shot up her chest, burning her throat.

 

“…You were calling for Ayato.”

 

* * *

 

 

If there was anything ghouls were good at, it was survival. A strength that Hinami didn’t know was in her bloomed, slowly but surely, through every adversity that she was put through.

 

That strength broke when her second home – her Anteiku, her only place left to belong – was ground to the dust.

 

Banjou had suggested gently that they go to the nearest Aogiri Tree hideout – they would be accepted there, even if they were former enemies. “It’s better to band together with our kind,” he had said. “Anteiku is finished. We have a better chance with Aogiri than trying to strike it out on our own.”

 

She had shaken her head at that. They were the very people her Oniichan had fought against; the ones who had hurt him and would hurt everyone else if they got in the way. They represented the very ideology their band of misfits struggled against. How could she betray their principles like that?

 

Besides, Ayato would be there. She didn’t want to see him. Not now.

 

She played with the business card in her hand, and waited at the bookstore Takatsuki Sen had instructed her to stay at. In a moment of weakness, she had called the number printed on it, and the writer was quick to offer help. Hinami didn’t know how assistance from a human author would help her case, but she had a gut feeling that meeting her would help her put one foot forward again.

 

She stood by the shelf containing Takatsuki Sen’s works, running her fingers distractedly along their spines. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea considering the circumstances, but she couldn’t back out at that point anyway. She gave in to the urge to sigh, inhaling deeply-

 

“Well. Huh.”

 

-and was assaulted with the familiar smell of summer afternoons and warmth, mixed with dried blood and smoke and steel and whatever it was that made up Kirishima Ayato now.

 

She turned quickly, her eyes wide, nearly all her senses assaulted with what she thought she had lost all those years ago. He reached towards her, and she flinched.

 

To her surprise, his arm went past her towards the bookshelf behind her, and he grabbed the nearest book from it. She watched him flip through the pages carelessly, her mouth dry. “Can’t believe that woman has time to write this crap,” he said nonchalantly. “Well, then again, if she can delegate picking up strays to people like me, then maybe it’s not so unbelievable.”

 

“What- I don’t-”

 

Ayato rolled his eyes.  “Your Takatsuki Sen’s one of _us_. She told me to pick you up.” He looked her up and down. “Not that I knew who I’d be picking up. I shoulda known, I guess – she likes a bit of drama.”

 

He placed the book back with its fellows, and finally met her wet eyes. She had so much to say about the situation, about all the years they were apart, about that night – but they were all lost as she looked at the boy of her childhood, who made up so much of her little world back then.

 

His smirk didn’t reach his eyes, and she trembled at the hatred she found in there. “Your family abandoned us. And yet here I am, saving you. Dunno which of us is the wuss now.”

 

He pulled her by the wrist, and there was nothing she could do but follow.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hinami.”

 

She removed her palms from her ears and looked down at Ayato from her perch. “Ayato-kun,” she said, nodding. It was a midnight operation to move weapons from the supplier to a hideout in the 12th Ward – nothing too complex or dangerous, which Hinami knew bored Ayato to death. “Nothing to report from this vantage point. We’re in the clear.”

 

“Good.” He reached up and swung himself up on the beam, sitting next to her. She turned to face him, and in August moonlight she found-

 

“Oh, Ayato-kun,” she sighed. “You’ve got grime on your cheek.”

 

“What.” He reached up and rubbed against it, only to spread it further. Hinami giggled.

 

“Here, let me.”

 

He allowed her to grip his chin, and Hinami pretended not to feel the nostalgia that washed over her as she rubbed her cloak sleeve against his cheek. He didn’t squirm.

 

When she finished, he pulled back, and she fought back a sigh at the contact that ended so abruptly. However, instead of completely closing off, he began to fish for something in his collection of pockets.

 

Finally, he lit up, finding what he was looking for. “Here,” he said, grabbing her hand and depositing a warm can of coffee into it. “We’ll be here all night,” he added, looking at anywhere but her.

 

She smiled. “You really are the best, Ayato-kun. Thank you.” She looked away so Ayato could wipe the shocked look on his face and pretend it wasn’t ever there.

 

It was fine like this, Hinami figured, all things considered. Her world was bigger, and it was certainly crueler than she wanted it to be, but Ayato was a big part of it again and that was enough.

 

She sipped her coffee, and felt herself moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write more but if I did I think this would turn into a multi-chap and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment ahh


	3. electromagnetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Verse: high school popular kid/nerd au  
> For the AU prompts, as requested by **fattanion-sama**.
> 
> (This took me _a week_ I'm so sorry fck)

Fueguchi Hinami ducked her head, attempting to write notes from the Physics book she was reading, but the heaviness she felt at the moment was not gravity or anything that could be broken down into a formula. Her finger tapped a nervous beat on the table, and within moments, her leg was jiggling nervously too. She looked at her watch.

 

 _4:47pm_.

 

She resisted the urge to whimper.

 

The beauty of volunteer library work was that she got a prime place to study – that is, the librarian’s desk – for a few hours a week. The library officially closed at 5:00pm, but most people gave her time to arrange books in their proper shelves before she left for cram school. Most days she could leave with slightly more than a half hour to spare.

 

 _But_ this _guy._

 

“This guy” – Kirishima Ayato – had been the bane of her existence the past two weeks. He would come in around 4:00pm, grab five or more books from the shelves, then set himself up exactly three desks front of where Hinami sat, like clockwork. And he would not leave until 5 minutes before closing, which gave the harried girl exactly that amount of time to return his books to the proper bookshelves, run to the bike rack, and race for her life.

 

She didn’t know what his deal was. The books he got seemed more or less random, and he didn’t look like he was actually doing homework or whatever. Not that she cared what his reading list contained though. She just wished he would leave early, for once.

 

It wasn’t only that he left late, either. Despite his tall stature, his voice, and his dark good looks, he had exactly the unnerving stare that absolutely rattled her. The first time she noticed it, she had to think back if she did something to offend anyone in the soccer team where he belonged ( _Especially at 4 in the afternoon!_ Hinami thought furiously).

 

She gave him another subtle glance – and there he was, glaring daggers at a point between her left ear and shoulder. A jolt ran through her body, making her shudder. She hurriedly distracted herself with her watch.

 

_4:49pm._

 

This time, she did whimper. _There’s an exam today,_ she thought. _I don’t want to sit down for it all gross and out of breath!_

 

That was the last straw. With deliberate slowness, she stood and made her way to him.

 

“Um…” How exactly would she phrase _Get the hell out of here before I throw you out myself_ in a more socially acceptable manner? “Kirishima… kun?”

 

His reaction surprised her. Where she would expect him to lean back, raise an eyebrow, and deliver a cold response – he tensed, refused look anywhere near her, and stutter, “Y-yeah?”

 

She frowned, feeling a little out of the loop. Maybe this could actually be a civilized conversation? “Er. Um. I’m the student librarian and I really need to-”

 

“-get to cram school at 5:30, yeah?”

 

Now she felt completely blindsided. “Um. Yes.” _How did he know?_ “Earlier than usual, actually – I’ve got an exam. So if you could-”

 

“ _Icouldtotallytakeyouthere!_ ” he exclaimed, jumping up to stand. Hinami leapt back, severely startled.

 

The messy-haired boy seemed to realize what he was doing, and backpedaled quickly. “Uh but! Y-you don’t gotta- I mean, I don’t gotta- I-I’m not saying I don’t wanna but if you don’t wanna then I’m-”

 

“Uh, Kirishima-kun,” she said, trying not to stumble over her words with how much her lips were trembling, “if you don’t mind, I only… wanted to know if you could leave earlier today… so I could clean up earlier… and stuff…”

 

Kirishima Ayato – _that_ Kirishima Ayato, who was the ace of the school’s soccer team, who Hinami just remembered was the subject of many a locker room conversation – looked completely dumbstruck, his handsome face paling. “Haha, sorry,” he said, completely without mirth. He gathered his things at a snail’s pace, his movements far too small for a guy as tall as him. “I was just… It was a stupid suggestion. Sorry.”

 

“N-no!” Hinami began to gather his books as well. “I mean, it’s really nice of you to offer, but-”

 

“Forget it.” Without meeting her eyes, he walked quickly to the exit and disappeared from sight, leaving Hinami to gawk stupidly.

 

* * *

 

 

Five hours and a completely crappy test result later, the sandy-haired girl lay spread-eagled in bed, burning holes into the ceiling with her stare.

 

_What was that?! What was that!? What the hell was that!?!_

 

She screeched into her pillow, trying and failing to forget.

 

* * *

 

 

Kirishima-kun never went back to the library after that incident, but _Good lord,_ Hinami thought, _why is he_ everywhere else _!?_

She honestly didn’t want to keep noticing him – his admittedly attractive appearance was distracting in itself, and his awkwardness whenever he knew she was around even more so. But for some reason, he kept popping up right where she was.

 

While in line for lunch, he was two people in front of her, fighting with the lunch lady for the last two pieces of melon pan. (“One for me, and one for Naki – geez, why are you so stingy, grandma?!”)

 

During self-study period, he was all over the classroom, badgering Mutsuki-kun for answers to the Biology homework or having an intent discussion with Yonebayashi-chan about the merits of buying Omega Ruby versus Alpha Sapphire, whatever the heck those were. (Yonebayashi-chan recommended buying both, but that was just her.)

 

Even in PE, all she could hear were feminine squeals of “Kirishima-kun! You’re so cool!” from the soccer field, when all the girls ought to have been way across at the track field, anyway.

 

And why had she never noticed that she was one seat behind to his right and thus had a perfect view of his profile (and the manga hidden behind his book)?

 

By the third day since the incident, she was sick of herself and her ( _ohmygod this is so weird_ ) growing preoccupation with the blue-eyed boy. The library now doubled as her sanctuary from weird thoughts and kept her focused on her school work. But once she took her mind off academics, it felt like she was using half her energy for something so frivolous and embarrassing and discomfiting with how her stomach pleasantly coiled when she remembered him running his hand over his dark wavy hair-

 

Hinami groaned and slammed her notebook shut. No way was she getting anywhere that day, not with each neuron of her brain drawn to the thought of him.

 

* * *

 

 

Hinami had often been accused of having her own world, what with her penchant for practically devouring books and sketching quietly and staring into nothing. In reality, however, she was usually staring at something – observing, people-watching. Other people – their motivations, inclinations, emotions – they were all very interesting to see, even if all she did was watch at the periphery.

 

But she had never watched anyone as intensely as she watched Kirishima-kun now.

 

She had known Kirishima-kun even before all this, of course. He was the pride of their school in the soccer field and the nuisance of most of their teachers in the classroom. He was smart, as far as Hinami knew, but seemed to hate to apply himself for some reason. He had an older sister who was in the track team and rather popular herself. There were some rumors about his middle school escapades, but she wasn’t the type to believe in hearsay so quickly.

 

But what she hadn’t known before were these:

 

Kirishima-kun hated everything else except Math, the one class he actually paid attention to even if he didn’t look like he was, because his classwork was flawless. He drank a lot – _a lot_ – of orange soda. He fought with Naki-kun everyday, but he also bought Naki-kun’s lunch all the time because the other boy often forgot. He had some kind of fixation on fish, if his fish-patterned pencil case and the book on coral reefs he was reading behind his English dictionary right then were any indication.

 

He seemed to have felt her stare, and turned a little to meet her gaze. Immediately, she arranged her expression to a look of acute interest on the English prepositions on the blackboard, her bobcut hair hiding her scarlet face.

 

What she didn’t know at the moment was this:

 

Kirishima-kun kept watching her for a long while after – the way she tapped her pen on her notebook, the way she tucked her hair back to reveal her receding blush, the way she answered the teacher in soft, accented but clear English – and hid away a small smile behind his knuckle.

 

But she didn’t know, and continued to resolutely not look in his direction. (Well, at least for the rest of the class.)

 

* * *

 

 

By the ninth day post-Kirishima-kun, Hinami had a headache.

 

Well, to be accurate, she had a headache, particularly bad abdominal cramps, and the tendency to snap at anyone who so much as breathed within a 2 meter radius of her. But life goes on, even with menstrual pains, so school and Kirishima-kun and cram school (and Kirishima-kun) and PE were still in the purview.

 

 _I don’t need this today,_ she thought glumly as she slugged through the 2 nd lap of the class marathon around the school. A couple of boys passed her – Hinami was pretty sure they were on their 3rd lap. She urged herself on, feeling completely disgusting and made of jelly. _Kind of really gross jelly._

 

It was tempting to drop right there and just call it quits. But if she did, she would have to take the make-up marathon, which no one did unless they were bedridden that day, or delinquents. But if she struggled through the next 2 laps of the marathon, she would never have to do it again until next year.

 

_I am grade-conscious, and I am miserable. What is this life._

“Hey, you okay?”

 

To say _You again?_ was Hinami’s first instinct, but Kirishima-kun was certainly only trying to be nice. She fought down the words from her tongue and said between constricted breaths, “Yes. Of course, Kirishima-kun. Why do you ask?”

 

“You look like you’re about to fall over,” the boy said bluntly, jogging at her pathetic rate.

 

“I won’t,” Hinami insisted lamely, her breath coming out in wheezes.

 

“You should quit while you’re still, y’know, conscious.”

 

“ _I don’t want to repeat the marathon_!” she said shrilly, and Kirishima-kun leaned back in surprise. She remembered herself quickly, and repeated in false calm, “I don’t want to repeat the marathon.”

 

Kirishima-kun considered her for a moment. Then he said, “Well, keep up with me for a bit more and play along.”

 

Hinami made a sound of confusion (the only thing she could get her failing lungs to cooperate with), but did her best to match Kirishima-kun’s long-legged pace. In a couple more minutes, they passed Yonebayashi-chan, who held the timer.

 

Kirishima-kun ground to a halt as soon as the pigtailed girl clicked the timer. The boy gave Hinami a surreptitious nod, and she quickly skidded to a stop too, breathing heavily.

 

“Yaaa, Kirishima. Was that your last lap?”

 

“Check your damn chart,” Kirishima-kun said with a roll of his eyes.

 

Yonebayashi-chan eyeballed the list of names and the number of ticks beside them, and nodded. A moment later, she noticed Hinami and frowned. “Fueguchi, you’ve only got 2 laps down.”

 

Hinami almost opened her mouth to apologize, but Kirishima-kun beat her to the punch. “What’re you talking about, Yonebayashi? She’s been behind me since 3 laps ago. Didn’t you notice?”

 

The other girl looked confused, and Hinami was quick to pretend to know exactly what Kirishima-kun was talking about (even if all she could really do was look exhausted). “I didn’t see her pass though…”

 

“Really, Yonebayashi. You think a stickler for rules like Fueguchi would lie about stupid laps of all things? Besides,” he glanced at Hinami, now sitting on the ground, “she wouldn’t be this tired if she wasn’t trying to keep up with me. I’m pretty fast, y’know.”

 

Yonebayashi-chan snorted. “Kirishima, you show-off.”

  
“Well, that’s that. You gonna let us go to the fountains or not?”

 

The plump girl shooed them off, turning her attention to the next passersby. Kirishima-kun held her by the elbow, and practically marched her up to the drinking fountains, well out of sight.

 

“Kirishima-kun,” Hinami began, finally getting her breath back, “I don’t know how to thank you-”

 

“Drink,” he ordered, pointing to the fountain.

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“ _Drink_.” His tone brooked no argument.

 

Hinami went to meekly comply with the command, but all of a sudden, she was struck by a sharp, squeezing pain that felt as though her abdominal muscles were being put through a wringer. It was so harsh that she squeaked and crouched down, her eyes watering.

 

Kirishima-kun panicked.

 

“F-F-Fueguchi!” He scrambled to her side, nearly tripping over himself. “Are- Are you sick? Do you need an ambulance? Oh shit are you _dying_? I’ll- I’ll carry you to the infirmary, if you need me to-!”

 

Hinami raised her hand to halt his freak-out. “Just sshh,” she mumbled, waiting for the pain to subside, her eyes still squeezed shut.

 

Still, the boy didn’t back off. Quietly, he crouched beside her, hand hesitantly on her shoulder in silent support.

 

Through the haze of the pain, with her hormones raging besides, Hinami supposed that it was well within her rights as a girl to lean into the strength of him. She was close enough that she could smell sweat and the sun and men’s cologne, but she was too comfortable to care right then.

 

Finally, Mado-sensei spotted them and Hinami was led away to the showers, the pain having subsided to a dull ache. _Thank goodness for female teachers who just_ get it _, honestly,_ the brown-eyed girl thought as she stepped into the warm spray of water, feeling all the tension and exhaustion almost literally go down the drain.

 

She shut down the whisper in the back of her mind that wondered what it would have felt like to have Kirishima-kun carry her.

 

* * *

 

 

It took Hinami a few hours to realize how embarrassing that entire morning was, and two more days to convince herself that maybe it was just the hormones wreaking havoc on her emotions. The ovulation cycle couldn’t explain the entire eleven days post-Kirishima-kun, but she was still working on that theory.

 

It was half past three in the afternoon on a Thursday, and she was on library duty again. The walk down the halls from the classroom to the library usually set her mind straight, priming her for the work ahead, but today…

 

She stopped at the bridge to the front building, exactly where she had a clear view of the sports fields. To the left was the track field. Right ahead was the gym. And to the right, running laps with the rest of the soccer team, was him, the fourth boy on the left column. The team chanted “Fight-o!” as one, but Hinami thought that she might distinguish the timbre of his voice amongst all the others if she listened hard enough.

_When was it that I began to find him so quickly in a crowd, I wonder?_

She glanced down the hallway, where the library stood – her refuge to hide from the confusion and chaos of having the order of her world overturned.

 

_But that was where all this began, too. Why do I still think I can run from this?_

The wind blew from behind, drowning out the soccer team’s mantra. And yet even when the team broke out into groups, Hinami found her eyes still trained to his every movement. She smiled a little sardonically.

 

_Why do I still think I need to?_

 

Without thinking further, she turned left towards the stairs, down to the soccer field.

 

The team was beginning a training game when she arrived. She only had a basic grasp of the rules of the sport, but even with that, she could tell why Kirishima-kun was the ace and future captain of the team. He was agile, almost never letting the ball slip from his possession, and almost leonine with his aggression if needed. He had charisma enough to lead his teammates, some older than he was. And when the ball arched in a way seemingly impossible to reach, he bicycled in the air and kicked it right into the goal.

 

Kirishima-kun pumped his fists up and down, clearly giddy with his achievement. Hinami couldn’t help but get caught in the excitement of the crowd, and began to clap and cheer with the others. “Nice one, Kirishima-kun!” she cried, completely assured that her voice would be masked by everyone else’s.

 

Just like that, Kirishima-kun froze from his victorious whooping, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Hinami stepped back cautiously, wishing she could meld with the crowd of other girls – but he spotted her almost immediately, his mouth dropping.

 

“Fuegu-”

 

_BAM!_

The soccer ball bounced on his head so hard that he nearly toppled at the force. “GAME ON, AYATO!” Naki-kun hollered from across the field, wearing a shit-eating grin.

 

“ _What the fuck, Naki_?!” Kirishima-kun snarled as the referee blew his whistle. “GAME _FUCKING_ ON!”

 

Hinami laughed out loud despite herself. Kirishima-kun turned to her, and her laughter stopped in her throat at the expression he wore - turning soft then fiery then cocky one after the other. Against her will, her pulse quickened, coloring her face pink.

 

He smirked and mouthed, _Watch me._

So Hinami did.

 

From then on, all eyes were on Kirishima-kun, and he could do no wrong. Every move he made was seamless and graceful, each shot ending up precisely where he wanted them to. He even made one or two almost acrobatic moves that had everyone in awe. Hinami heard the team coach ask, “Kirishima’s doing rather well today. What’s gotten into him?”

 

Takatsuki-sempai, the team manager, caught the younger girl’s eye. She snickered. “I’m guessing he’s found a special kind of motivation lately.”

 

In the end, Kirishima Ayato destroyed Naki’s team, 6 points to 1. And Hinami felt each goal shoot right into her chest, sending her heart into overdrive.

 

* * *

 

 

The library was bathed in orange light as Hinami returned the used books back to their shelves. She had gone back to the library as soon as the game ended in a sort of daze. Outwardly, her movements were composed and measured, but the color was still high in her cheeks and chest still bubbled with a fluffy, heartwrenching sort of heat. Only the mechanical motion of arranging books in their proper order could steady her shaking hands and mind. She sighed resignedly.

 

_…I’m too far gone, aren’t I?_

 

The library door slid open very slowly, but Hinami’s heart still jumped to hear it. She turned, all at once self-conscious and expectant. Kirishima-kun entered, his eyes glued to the movement of his feet, right until he stood in front of her.

 

The silence simmered between them, stretching into absurdity, until-

 

“Kirishima-kun-”

“Fueguchi-”

 

Hinami giggled, all tension leaving her. Kirishima-kun managed an awkward grin. “You first,” he offered.

 

“I was just…” She fingered her cardigan, choosing her words carefully. “I wanted to say… you were great in the game today.”

 

“Th-thanks.” Kirishima-kun scratched his cheek self-consciously.

 

“…And I wanted to know…” she took a deep breath and looked up at him, pinning him with her sweetest look, “…if your previous offer still stands?”

 

He blinked in confusion. Then gradually, the haze cleared into relief, then into the softest gaze she had no idea he could muster.

 

“…yeah,” he said, looking as though he was fighting a grin. “Yeah. I could take you on my bike. Then maybe…” His deep dark blues flickered left and right, before settling on her face. “…then maybe, we could get yakisoba after?”

 

Hinami smiled, feeling herself give in to the pull.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's clear that I read way, _wayyyyy_ too many shoujo manga. Like. Seriously.
> 
> Also, I have no sense of drabbliosity. Like literally none. I cannot write anything less than 1k words. UGH.


	4. we could be heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Verse: teacher/student au  
> For the AU prompts, as requested by anon on Tumblr.
> 
> (Yay 5 days later, a new record)

The two tallest trees stood side by side deep in the forest, dwarfing all the flora and fauna surrounding them. Their branches swayed from side to side, making the sunlight blink in and out of focus so that Ayato squinted from his prone position on the ground, every muscle of his body aching. He was pretty sure every crevice of his body was caked in dirt with how many times he’d fallen from a five meter height, and his bruises probably had bruises. He rolled over, muttering expletives a 12 year old shouldn’t be creative enough to formulate, and raised his eyes to the girl hovering horizontally above him, her feet firmly on the tree trunk and her usually kind brown eyes filled with half-exasperation, half-amusement.

 

“Stop. Laughing.” He pushed himself from the ground, dusting himself off. “I’m already getting the hang of it!”

 

“Oh, Ayato-kun,” Hinami sighed, leaping in a graceful arc from her height to the ground. “You can barely reach a third up the tree.” She glanced at the sun, already beginning its dip down the mountains. “Don’t you think we should stop? Naki-kun and Eto-sensei have already gone back to the village hours ago. Your sister will be looking for you soon, too.”

 

“No way,” the dark-haired boy said stubbornly, adjusting his clothes and straightening his hitai-ate where it perched on his collarbone. “I’m not leaving until I master chakra control.”

 

Ayato could see the kindly girl struggle with her frustration versus her normally patient nature, a groan just barely on her lips. That didn’t matter. He wasn’t just going to walk away and accept the fact that Fueguchi Hinami – that shy, bookish classmate of his, who could barely kill for dinner, much less for hire – was such a natural at something he (the top graduate of the Ninja Academy!) couldn’t even get the hang of. He was going to learn this, even if he consumed all his chakra doing it.

 

“If you haven’t learned it by now, you’re not going to learn it today,” Hinami said, her tone weary. “I’m sure if you slept on it-”

 

“If I slept on it, I’m going to lose all the progress I’ve made.” Ayato didn’t know where the logic in his statement lay, but he wasn’t going to give up so soon. “Again,” he demanded crossly, hands on his hips.

 

For the fifteenth time that day, the girl broke down the steps to a method that came so naturally to her that she didn’t even have to think about it. “Gauge the material beneath your feet, and connect to their inner energy. Equal the chakra in your feet to that energy – it’s pretty much the Law of Action and Reaction. Too much, and you’ll break the wood; too little, and you’ll lose your grip. And stop doing that thing where you waste your chakra trying to grasp at straws.”

 

“I don’t-”

 

“You do. Now, concentrate and pool your chakra into your feet.”

 

“Do it with me,” Ayato ordered.

 

“Yes, yes.” She faced the tree trunk next to his. “Ready?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then let’s go.”

 

Ayato concentrated. _Just enough chakra,_ he chanted in his mind. _Just enough chakra._ He placed his left foot on the tree bottom, just barely feeling the inner energy of the tree. Slowly, he began his climb.

 

_Left. Right. Left. Right. Left._

To his right, Hinami matched his pace effortlessly. He could see her from the corner of his eye, absolutely at ease with her footwork but watching him a bit worriedly. _Stop looking like I’m going to fail again, idiot._ He resolutely climbed, meter by grueling meter. _Right. Left. Right. Left. Just enough chakra._

“Straight on ahead, Ayato-kun,” Hinami called. “We’re almost to the halfway point.”

 

The flame ninjutsu user brightened. “Really?” He turned to glance at the ground.  


“Don’t-!”

 

As soon as he turned, he felt himself slipping, and immediately scrambled to maintain the balance. Panicking, he gathered chakra into his feet, trying to get his grip back – but the sensation of the tree’s energy was seeping away. He pushed one last burst of chakra into his soles, but it proved too much for the balance and he fell to the ground.

 

_Again!?_

 

Hinami landed next to him while he groaned. “Are you quite all right?” She crouched next to him. “As I thought – we should call it a day-”  


“No,” he said, gripping her arm to pull himself up. “I got this. Once more.”

 

The tracker nin frowned at him as she tugged him up. Her lips pursed as though biting back a retort, but her own non-confrontational nature eventually won out. She merely sighed again. “You know, what, Ayato-kun?”

 

“What?”

 

She pointed to the tree. “Maybe you can take a running start? Your concentration’s shot, I think-”

 

“It’s not!”

 

Hinami raised an eyebrow.

 

Ayato wanted to argue with the million and one things that gesture said, but he would be lying if he did. _Still though_. “I’m not taking the easy way out.” He crossed his arms. “You can just leave if you’re tired of teaching me. I don’t care.”

 

The kunoichi looked hurt, and Ayato felt a bit of shame, even if he knew he wasn’t going to let up. “Well,” Hinami said, voice brittle, “you can do as you like. I’m going one last time, then I’ll leave.”

 

“Fine,” Ayato spat out, ignoring the sudden squeeze of his throat.

 

“Fine,” Hinami huffed, turning away, brown hair flashing in the dying sunlight.

 

Ayato positioned himself beneath his own tree, psyching himself up. To his right, Hinami had taken off on her own tree at a brisk pace, before breaking into a sprint, then finally a full run, until she reached the top of her 50-meter tree. She clung to the apex of the trunk, admiring the sunset and enjoying the breeze, while sweaty Ayato admired the sole of her left sandal.

 

“Show-off,” he muttered as he started to climb again, refocusing his eyes on the prize, the last dregs of sunlight a soft glow through the leaves above.

 

That glow was suddenly obstructed by Hinami precariously swaying from her foothold. Ayato’s pulse roared in his ears – but that didn’t prevent him from hearing the _snap!_ that preceded the thin apex of the tree breaking from her weight.

 

Ayato didn’t think. One moment, he was at the bottom of the tree, and the next his legs were pumping him up, up, up, _closer, closer, closercloserfasterfaster!_ until he and the falling girl were abreast in height. Then he leapt, wrapped his arms around her, and held her as gravity pulled them down until he found a branch that he could land on.

 

He set the two of them down, his breath heavy (from exertion or from anxiety he didn’t stop to think). “All right?” he grunted.

 

“Mm,” she murmured, nodding into his collar, her slow, warm breaths fanning across his collarbone. His erratic heartbeat vibrated all the way to his fingers, where he could feel hers in a steadfast rhythm where they rested above the back of her shirt.

 

He couldn’t think straight, the rush still addling his perception.

 

_Slow warm breaths. Steadfast rhythm._

He blinked. And blinked again.

 

_Slow warm breaths. Steadfast rhythm._

There was something wrong with this picture. Ayato tried to focus.

_Slow warm breaths. Steadfast rhythm._

_Slow. Steadfast._

The realization dawned.

 

_…She’s not scared. She never was. Which means-_

He growled. “Hinami. Did you do that on purpose?”

 

She flinched, and her heart rate quickened under his touch.

 

“ _Hinami!_ ”

 

“I’m sorry!” she squeaked, face still in his collar. “But you wouldn’t listen to me so I thought I’d put you in a situation where-”

 

“-where you could’ve _died!!_ ” Ayato yelled, livid. “What if I hadn’t caught you on time!? What if you had whiplash before I did?!”

 

“I wouldn’t have!”

 

“Yeah!? And why is that?! You got some kinda jutsu that can-”

 

“It’s because you would have caught me whatever it took!”

 

Ayato’s mind screeched to a halt mid-rant. Hinami continued, “I-I knew you just needed s-some kind of push, a-and you were just thinking too hard about it, and i-if you were put in a situation w-where you didn’t have time to think, I thought- A-and like I said, y-you might be better off running because y-you lose your concentration too quickly-”

 

“I told you,” he mumbled into her hair, “that I don’t. Just… grmmnghh. You can’t…” He grumbled, his nape and ears heating up. “You can’t just blindly believe in…” His voice trailed off, “…in _me._ ”

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice muffled. “But it’s a tough habit to break.”

 

He could almost hear her smile. And he, despite himself, found it contagious.

 

* * *

 

 

**Omake:**

 

“By the way, Ayato-kun…” She shifted in his hold awkwardly. “Are we… going to stay like this for longer?”

 

He reddened.

 

_Ah. Ah shit._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were all Naruto weebs, once


	5. stop motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a companion piece to _blooming through red brick cracks_ , this time in Ayato’s POV (although you don't need to have read that to understand this). It's a WIP I've been slowly building for a year, but the recent manga chapters - especially all that delicious AyaHina development - have given me more fodder for this character study-slash-slice of ghoul life fic.
> 
> So. Um. Yeah. Spoiler alert.

 

Hinami, he sometimes thinks, looks at him like she expects to be hurt.

 

It’s not a fearful sort of look, Ayato supposes; quite unlike the pale, wet-eyed gaze she had given him when they were first introduced, nor the half-flinch she still sometimes wears when faced with shards from his ukaku. He can’t quite place it – only that it is a mixture of many things she still allows herself to feel, things he ( _still struggles to_ ) already let go of.

 

She catches him staring once, as she thumbs through yet another book. “Yes, Ayato-kun?” she asks with an incline of her head, all saccharine and sickening. “Need anything?”

 

“Nah,” he says, averting his gaze almost guiltily. After a beat, he glances at her from the corner of his eyes.

 

There it is again – although today, there’s one less furrow between her brow, and the tilt of her mouth favors her right a degree more than usual. “Stupid,” he mutters, stuffing his hands into his jacket. He swallows the lump in his throat, and the roiling of his innards settle somewhat.

 

* * *

 

Ayato wonders how two years can feel like a time paradox.

 

The days and nights pass as sand through an hourglass or the _dripdrop_ from a leaky faucet; an excruciating doldrum. But the memories now blur into each other like thumbing through thick pages and only catching half-sentences, almost as if his recollection of days past are but a trick of the mind’s eye. It’s not particularly a problem - not when the two years have been mostly spent in routine (kill, eat, kill, sleep, kill, breathe, repeat) – but the feeling of missing something crucial niggles at the back of his mind.

 

It’s a problem only because it’s Hinami.

 

Each day of the two years he spent in close quarters with her seemed unhurried, but it's as though each blink of his eyes transforms Hinami from a hapless crybaby who could not meet his eyes, to a fairly reliable teammate who saw his sister in him, to a girl (a _girl_ girl) who now carries that unfathomable expression on her face that changes meaning every time he thinks he’s comprehended it.

 

The years feel like he’s lived every agonizing minute of it, and yet he could not pinpoint the exact moment when he stopped being able to read her like a book.

 

And it irks him. Because that _look_ – something soft and tender yet guarded and dark but bright and warm and hot and spiked at the edges – unsettles something very deep that he’s kept buried. For him not to understand what is behind it, in this world where every subtlety counts for something, could mean his life one day.

 

( _For what is this thrill in his chest but that of the chase?_ )

 

The only thing he is certain about is this:

 

That look is meant for him.

 

* * *

 

 He’d known what sort of game Eto intended to play, from the moment “Takatsuki Sen” deposited the pale, shaking slip of a girl onto his pile of responsibilities.

 

“It would be nice for you to have a girl your age around, Ayato-kun,” she had said, innocence dripping from her mouth the way a rabid dog salivates. “I’m sure you’ll have a lot to teach each other. It’ll be _splendid_ ~!”

 

It’s a threat wrapped in an insult with the silliness of playing house painted over it. Eto wants an experiment. Eto wants a new weapon. Eto wants a hostage. And with Hinami as her new doll, Ayato knows she has all three.

 

She is to live with him as he teaches her the ropes, and he’s quick to draw borders. _Sleep on the couch. Bathroom is mine after 6am. To each their own mess. To each their own food. Do not follow me around unless necessary. Do not talk to me beyond official business. Do not ask me personal questions._

And like anyone who has grown up in a weak-shelled household, who has had the chance of associating with the Anteiku and his stupid sister and her Freudian mistake of a(n almost) lover, she roots herself firmly on the borderlines and slips through the cracks like a weed.

 

11 months into the arrangement they have come to this:

 

She shimmies from her cotton cocoon on the couch as soon as the alarm rings and starts on the coffee, the way it was prepared in Anteiku. He wakes up from his fatigue-induced slumber to the warm scent of it, and to the sound of her pitter-pattering around whatever little corner of this particular HQ they’ve claimed for themselves (like they’re somehow a package deal). He slumps his way to what passes as their kitchen counter to start the morning. She makes an exasperated comment on his morning wear (or lack of it), and he grouses at her to hurry it up in the bathroom if she doesn’t want him barging in. He puts their clothes into the washer (whites with whites and colors with colors, or she’ll freak) while she makes herself presentable. Then they are out into the street, him pulling her closer when a car passes too narrowly by their path.

 

(On the slow days, anyway. On other days they are watching each other’s backs, each time less reluctantly than last.)

 

A year and seven months later, it’s more or less the same – only that the scent of her lingers on his coat and shirt and skin stronger than ever.

 

She catches his eye as they walk down the boulevard and she gives him a smile – soft around the edges, her eyes shimmering at the tilt she holds her head against the sunlight. He almost doesn’t answer it, but then he notices the subtle upturn of her brow and the sudden falter of her mouth's angle, and nods quickly to uphold his side of the silent dialogue. And just like that, the shadows fade from her face into a smile that has turned improbably brighter.

 

Ayato had known what sort of game Eto intended to play, right from day one; and he couldn’t help but play along anyway. Just as Eto had hypothesized. (Just as Ayato had feared.)

 

* * *

 

His ukaku splinters through her calf, so that she slips on her own blood when she attempts to land. Her cry of pain is caught in her throat when she falls to the cement. It might have sounded a little betrayed, that his heart rolls up his trachea for a split second.

 

Ayato disperses his crystalline wings with a flourish of his arm. “That’s what you get when you don’t cover your blind spots,” he says, crossing the empty warehouse, legs forced to a firm stride. (His instincts scream against it, but today pride weighs more.)

 

Hinami’s lips press together into a thin line, and he can almost see her facial muscles working against a wince as she stems the blood loss.  He crouches down, watching tendrils of red slide across her ivory skin, curling against the contours of her slim ankle.

 

“You can cry, y’know,” he says, flexing his fingers in before he lets his hand do something stupid.

 

She raises her eyes and blinks slowly up at him. The almost-grin that blooms on her lips is wry. “Two years ago,” she notes, swiping at the blood on her leg, “you would’ve said otherwise.”

 

Ayato wonders why he expected any different. Hinami doesn’t cry for her own injuries anymore – but she still cries for his. She cries for her big brother’s too, and her ( _his_ ) big sister’s. She cries for the wounds that bandages or Rc cells can’t fix. She cries for the wounds she inflicts. She’s always giving, giving, giving – she parts with pieces of herself like she’s an infinite source.

 

_But who gives to her? Who cries for her?_

Her skin is slowly weaving itself back together, but his control is at an end. He grasps the crook behind her knee with one hand, and pulls on his scarf with the other. There is a momentary tension on her leg, but she relaxes as he carefully tourniquets the limb.

 

“Two years ago, you weren’t as cheeky,” Ayato comments as he tries to concentrate on the injury – but her inflamed skin is warm and smooth against his calloused palm and her chortle is, too. The dark-haired boy can’t help but think how easily he could crush the leg in his grip right now, and how many opportunities he has had to render her useless ( _against fighting battles he doesn’t want her to_ ).

 

“No,” she hums, smile glowing even beneath the dim fluorescent, and _that’s probably why not._ “But only because two years ago, you weren’t as kind.”

 

His knee-jerk reaction is to laugh at the absurdity of her choice of words, but in the quiet of the room and the fragile peace that had settled within, he is loath to break that notion of hers. He has a feeling it's their little secret, anyway.

 

"Okay," the dark-haired teen says with a grunt, pulling her up with him. "Since you've got enough energy to be annoying, I think we can squeeze in some target practice with your rinkaku." A shit-eating grin. "Against my ukaku, of course."

 

"Ahh, I take it back," she grumbles, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue. "You're still cruel, after all."

 

This time, he doesn't hold his bark of laughter in.

 

* * *

 

It’s a well-whispered opinion in Aogiri that Hinami is an anomaly.

 

There are strong but nasty ghouls, and there are strong but nice ghouls, even in the Tree. But there are no strong but kind ghouls. “The kind ghouls are all dead,” Miza says to him once, wistful. “Or too cowardly to die.”

 

Ayato naturally assumes Hinami will wean off her genteel nature as she’s thrust into mission after mission after mission, building her talents as she goes. Tokyo's underbelly is an even more dog-eat-dog world now that the CCG has tightened its guard – there is no margin for mercy. Aogiri believes itself the center of the ghoul resistance in the metropolis; and in many ways, it's true there is no bigger gathering of their kind. To think otherwise puts one in the precarious position of Tatara's displeasure. He figures, if anything, that she's smart enough to know that.

 

But to his ever-growing chagrin, she remains a bleeding heart. She has withheld her blows before they could kill, but not her generous hand to the mongrels Aogiri sometimes takes in. She hesitates to hurt even those who threaten her life, however finely her rinkaku could have sliced them. At first he thinks she's soft-headed as well as soft-hearted, but she proves her intelligence enough for him to learn that it is a calculated choice she makes.

 

Thankfully, he has no such qualms. And he has no misgivings with hitting her for her negligence either.

 

(Until, of course, he does.)

 

It's just as well, he thinks. He has a lot of anger to blow off and she's given him quite the outlet with the slack he has to pick up. They make a good team too, she and him – her abilities with reconnaissance are at par with his penchant for efficient brutality. "She's wasted on anyone else," is his reasoning whenever he informs the higher ups that the brunette is, once again, under his command. And he makes sure that each accomplished job is proof of that. Tatara does not care who does the job so long as someone does it, and even the jibes meant to ridicule their partnership stop when said partnership lasts for so long that the joke becomes stale.

 

(What Eto thinks is always at the back of Ayato's mind, though. It's partly why he always keeps Hinami close by.)

 

Hinami is an anomaly in Aogiri, a lesion, a resilient but benign little tumor. It is a fact that Ayato learns to live with – if unearthing a new side to himself with every approving smile and relieved sigh and trusting gaze of hers sent his way could even be called that.

 

The fact it might be contagious hits him one night with a mind-blowing bludgeon to the face. He finds himself hesitating against a couple of harmless humans who glimpsed him with a fresh kill. The phrase _Hinami wouldn't like that_ flashes for a fraction of a moment before he lets his ukaku fly, skewering them each cleanly through. He, at least, did not let them live long enough to have nightmares - or indeed, to feel their deaths.

 

That he's even justifying this act as though she's listening is maddening enough. That he has failed to realize that her kindness changed nothing and no one but _him_ , well, perhaps he was the only casualty in this scenario.

 

* * *

 

Anomaly or not, Ayato is an excellent teacher and Hinami takes to his lessons well. The efficacy by which she puts away her opponents, swiftly and neatly, is proof enough.

 

He still has to land the killing blow oftentimes, though. Too often that Eto and Tatara notice.

 

"I'm still as weak as ever," Hinami whispers after once such instance. All he can see of her face are shadows. "I wish… I was strong."

 

She doesn't say what Ayato hears in the tremor of her voice. _I can't save him. I can't save anyone. I'm tired. I want to go home. I want to stop being saved... but I want to be saved, too._

 

He doesn't say what he know he ought to say, the words he owes her. _You're not weak. I thought you were, but you're pretty strong. Strong enough to be kind._ Instead, he lets her bury her face into his shoulder, and hopes despite himself that she hears the comfort he can't voice squeezing from his fingertips to her palm.

 

Maybe she does realize; because she stares up to him with such profound gratitude that it occurs to him, perhaps, he's not the only one to have something to teach, and she's not the only one learning their lessons well.

 

(And that, horrifyingly, Eto is right again.)

 

* * *

 

 When Hinami analyzes data, she is as serene as fresh-fallen snow – untarnished, pure white, and begging to be kicked around. (But Ayato’s not a bastard like that.) She is in a different world, nigh untouchable and completely unaware of her surroundings, including him.

 

(Sometimes, Ayato really, _really_ wants to be a bastard.)

 

Her ability is incredibly useful. The Doves are secretive enough, and most data is encrypted; but sometimes radio chatter can turn careless, phone calls idle and thoughtless. And while Aogiri Tree has a vast network of informants, it takes a skilled ear and a systematic mind to pick through the pieces of audio, listen for lies and uncertainty, and put together a coherent picture of their enemies’ movements.

 

Hinami has the talent in spades.

 

She sits on the floor, hands on her ears, with her eyes softly shut that he can still see the rapid flickering of brown irises underneath thick eyelashes. He flops to the floor a respectful distance away, one hand tapping a random beat on the carpeted floor and the other carefully swirling a mug of coffee by the rim.

 

She breaks from her trance slow as sunrise, and he waits for her to speak. “The Red Spiders’s hunting activities are starting to be dangerous to Aogiri,” she says as she edges closer to him to extricate the mug from his fingertips. “Their grounds are circling too close to our headquarters in the 7th Ward, and the Doves are zeroing in.”

 

“I’ll inform Tatara-san,” he acknowledges, watching her take prim little sips from the mug. “Incidentally, I made that coffee for me.”

 

“Indulge me, Ayato-kun.” A playful pout. “I’ve been working hard, y’know.” She nudges his shoulder with her own – gently, but it knocks the air out of him anyhow. He’s all at once conscious of the slim cords of firm muscle under her cardigan and the warmth seeping through his jacket.

 

He remembers belatedly to pretend to be petulant. “What, and _I_ haven’t? Whaddaya think I’ve been doing all evening?”

 

“Looking into the night sky and thinking poetic thoughts?” Her smile tips over the edge into a giggle, and she still hasn’t relinquished ownership of the caffeine. He snorts. Why is she always laughing at him, anyway? She doesn’t ever laugh, except at him and maybe Naki, but only because Naki is inherently funny. Ayato doesn’t think _he_ is inherently funny.

 

A barbed retort is ready on his tongue – there are no mincing words where his pride is concerned. He opens his mouth to spit it out.

 

But this evening her face is sun-bright, eyes curved close, nose wrinkled, and her teeth worrying her lower lip with low-key mischief. Her left dimple is a modicum deeper than her right, as it always is; but her cheeks are tinted rose instead of peach today.

 

The retort comes out as a stammered choke layered over a halfhearted insult that just makes Hinami smile wider.

 

He’s not funny, he thinks. But he’s fucking laughable.

 

* * *

 

One night, she tells him she loves him, sad and desperate like the little girl she has not stopped being yet. Her breath across his skin warms him like a candle’s flame, burning his chest into a wildfire that eats all the mangled skeletons away.

 

And because her name is the most sacred word in his vocabulary, it’s all he can say in response.

 

* * *

 

When he asks her to be mission control for the Madame in next week's auction, it's less than a favor and more of a formality. She knows he'll always ask her; he knows she'll always say yes.

 

Their constant collaboration is a relief to the ghouls that Ayato leads. Rabbit commands fearful loyalty, but Yotsume inspires a different kind of awe. Enough successful jobs and rumors of an SS ranking, and they take it upon themselves to give the girl her alias - the "Yotsume-no-mon" warding off their enemies, bringing good fortune and protection hidden underneath her delicate façade. Hinami is forever embarrassed by the borderline reverence when they use this address, but it gives him nothing but pride.

 

It's no different when they jointly brief his underlings ( _their_ underlings, if said underlings were to be believed) about the auction.

 

"It's a routine bodyguard mission," he tells them. "But if we do it right, it's got a huge payoff. Madame's generous and we could definitely use the funding."

 

"We are working with Naki's and Miza's groups," Hinami says, her small but clear voice all business. "It's going to be quite a crowd, so please be strict with your formations. It'll make coordinating communications easier for the recon team."

 

It's a routine mission, just with higher stakes than usual, that perhaps he isn't as on guard as he usually is. Perhaps he's so used to her that he takes her for granted, or that he trusts her abilities so well that he can't imagine her failing.

 

Mostly he just blames Sasaki Haise.

 

( _You fucking leave her, and now you take her to her death. What kind of shitty big brother are you!?_ )

 

When the world goes to hell (and it goes real quick) he only has enough time to leave hurried instructions before jumping to face the wildchild Suzuya Juuzou. He glances up the balcony to see if Hinami and Saeki had gone-

 

-and for an infinity of lifetimes stretching that precious fraction of a second he catches her eye and glimpses her mouth set in dark, grim determination and it crosses his mind that the last time he had seen her at her brightest was right before she put on her mask, cheerful at the prospect of an after-mission book cafe trip with him, _him_ and not her precious Oniichan-

 

-and that is the last time he sees her with the knowledge that her heart is ( _had been_ ) ( _ ~~might have been~~_ ) his.

 

* * *

 

That last time goes this way:

 

Her expression is part disbelief, part confusion, with a dash of amusement and a sprinkling of hope. The emotions flicker rapidly across her face, and she fumbles with her grip on her mask. With effort, she stammers, "W-What- I don't- a _book cafe?_ "

 

She says the last words with a lilt of hysterical joy that Ayato has to suppress a grin.

 

"After this," he replies casually (even if they can both hear his vessels singing a frenetic drumbeat against his skin). "When everything dies down. It'll be Christmastime by then, we could hide ourselves in the crowd. The Doves aren't too active in that ward either."

 

"But-" A nervous giggle. "But you don't really- erm- like reading, Ayato-kun…"

 

"W-well…!" He swallows. "I don't have to- I mean, I'm okay with watching you read-" _Ah, that sounded creepy._ "I mean- that is- we've never actually gone anywhere 'coz of the risks-"

 

"We don't have to!" she exclaims, though her expression pleads otherwise.

 

"We will," he says firmly. "We never get to do what you like."

 

He can see her excitement bubbling over the surface in the way she practically vibrates. Her smile is shaky on her slowly blooming visage, straddling the fence between a sob and a laugh. Her eyes, honey in the incandescent light, are wide with a watery sheen.

 

Hope becomes her.

 

"Is it…" She hesitates, pulling back her enthusiasm a few degrees that the room seems to grow dimmer. "Is it… a date?"

 

His brain cogs click to a stop. They creak back to a slow spin a second too long later, just before her smile melts away. The words – rarely in a hardened ghoul's vocabulary – feel like wool in his mouth, but he wants to give her this if nothing else.

 

"Sure it's a date," barely leaves his lips before he's tackled by 50 kilos of pure elation. It's been getting harder to feign annoyance at this tendency of hers, but he still manages to grunt, "You don't have to get _that_ excited."

 

She's still so closely attached to him, all softness and gentle heat against his torso, that he has to strain a little to meet her gaze. He lets his eyes trail from hers, down to the apple of her cheeks, to the miniscule mole on her nose, to the glimmer of her red lipstick that is her warpaint. He memorizes the way her hair frames her round face; the scent of crisp pages and wintry sunlight on her skin; the tiny upward quirk of her eyebrows that complements the incline of her smile-

 

-the incline of her smile that carries in it all her anxiety and excitement and trust and wholehearted affection, and god, _she really does expect to be hurt by him_ -

 

(- _and that's okay, because he'd never-)_

 

"Thank you, Ayato-kun."

 

_-_ and love.

 

* * *

 

And, _Fuck it all,_ he thinks as he looks down at the cool metal darkness of Cochlea, sucking in a breath of viscous tension. He'd do anything – he’d fight the Devil and throw away his pride and his life, throw away the lives of all the ghouls he could get his hands on, he'd even let his stupid sister in on the plan if it meant just one more person bent on getting her out alive – _he’d do anything_ to give her a future away from this world.

 

Even if he knows for a certainty – despite what he had said to Takizawa – that as soon as Sasaki was placed in mortal danger, _her_ world had narrowed considerably. A world that didn't include him.

 

The alarms around Cochlea ring far earlier than he anticipated, but he sees the opportunity. He gives the signal and jumps ahead of everyone else. He hears Banjou call out some kind of warning to him that he only gives a cursory answer to. With authority that belied his youth, he yells out orders and they quickly disperse the confused Doves that are the pitiable first defense against their onslaught. In the swell of the chaos, he notes that ghouls in prison garb have joined their ranks – someone must have taken advantage of situation to free them. _Or that this is the most opportune time to oppose the CCG for anyone._

 

_It doesn't matter. Fuck Sasaki. Fuck them all. I'm coming for you, Hinami._

 

If he could see her once more illuminate the room with nothing more than her innate vibrance, then it would be worth every injury to his body, to his pride, to his spirit. ( _ ~~To his heart~~._ ) Hinami is the only one he'll take on any hurt for.

 

With all his being focused on that one thought, he plunges into the maw of hell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - The boy's so head over heels for Hina-chan it's embarrassing really.
> 
> 2 - I'm so sorry I disappeared for like a year.
> 
> 3 - THE CURRENT ARC THO.


End file.
